


Whumptober Day 14 - Tear-stained

by Elkiey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crying Dean Winchester, Depressed Dean Winchester, Depression, Gen, Toxic Masculinity, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 05:13:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21030806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elkiey/pseuds/Elkiey
Summary: Whumptober 2019, Day 14 - Tear-stainedExcerpt:"He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. It took all of his strength, but Dean found it in himself and stood up fully, making his way over to the bathroom, looking in the mirror. His hair was a mess, eyes red and puffy, face and shirt tear-stained. The common symptoms of a good old cry.Dean sighed. That wasn’t the worst he’s ever experienced. And besides, as long as Sam didn’t find out, he didn’t have to worry."





	Whumptober Day 14 - Tear-stained

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to use a different writing style than I normally do for this one, and, since I'm still new to writing in general, comments are appreciated!

“I’m heading out, Dean. Wanna come?”

“I’m fine.”

Sam scoffed, “Really, Dean? Exercise is important, you know. And besides, you just woke up.”

“Five more minutes,” Dean said. Then, realizing Sam wouldn’t leave until he got up, “Or longer. I’m not awake yet, y’know?”

For a second, Sam didn’t respond. “Alright. Your loss,” he finally said. Doubt filled his voice, but, despite that, he left.

Dean dropped his characteristic smile, curled up in a ball, and closed his eyes. He was lucky Sam didn’t see how close he was to the edge. Sam was obviously suspicious of it, but he didn’t know Dean’s torments, Dean’s restless nights, tired mornings, fear and hatred of himself. Sam didn’t know. And that was what was important. 

Unwanted thoughts were making their way into Dean’s head, and suddenly he couldn’t remember clearly. How much work had he actually done this hunt? Had Sam been doing all the work? His mind kept telling him no, that couldn’t have been it. Dean had to have done some research, some fighting, some anything. But he couldn’t seem to remember doing anything impactful. How long had he been doing this unconsciously, how much work had he given to Sam, or given to Cas that he wasn’t aware of? He had done it on this hunt, he had probably done it before.

A sadness washed over him, in waves, again and again, until it was all too much, until he couldn’t keep his head up anymore. Dean hadn’t realized he had been crying until he felt the pillow grow damp with tears. Despite there being no one in the motel, he tried not to cry out, perhaps trying to prove something to himself. Trying to prove to himself he was still worthy of being a man, and men didn’t cry. Perhaps he was trying to hold onto something, anything, which would prove he was still worthwhile.

Or perhaps he was in denial. Memories sprung up, of him and Sam- fresh outta college Sam- hunting. Treating it as a game, not a labor, not treating it as any type of storm which could drag them down and down and drown them. Where did that happiness go? Why couldn’t he still have that? What did he do to deserve this? The memories drew out a sob.

Dean shook silently, closing his eyes tightly. He wasn’t sure how long he sat like that, in the dark, drowning, drowning, he couldn’t breathe. Another sob wracked him, and suddenly it seemed better. He gave in, sobbing against the pillow, until he couldn’t anymore, and he could breathe normally again. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself. This wasn’t the first time one of these episodes had swept itself over him, and it wasn’t going to be the last one, so he might as well try to maximize the amount of time in between.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. It took all of his strength, but Dean found it in himself and stood up fully, making his way over to the bathroom, looking in the mirror. His hair was a mess, eyes red and puffy, face and shirt tear-stained. The common symptoms of a good old cry. 

Dean sighed. That wasn’t the worst he’s ever experienced. And besides, as long as Sam didn’t find out, he didn’t have to worry.


End file.
